


The Dark Phantom

by Tara730



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tara730/pseuds/Tara730
Summary: Little Hangleton's cemetery, June 1995. Lord Voldemort emerges from a cauldron, in a corporeal form for the first time in years. But not for long... 'Potter! What have you done again'-"Oh my" blanched Harry. "What are you now? A ghost?" Or how Voldemort became Harry's "personal poltergeist".





	1. Prologue

He always envisioned his future with the darkest expectations in order to never be surprised of whatever sick happenings would come his way. But imagination has its limits, and when he realised this fact in Little Hangleton' cemetery, facing Lord Voldemort once again, it was already too late.

 

Harry Potter, fourteen years old, considered himself gifted with a rare degree of bad luck. At one, his family was destroyed and the dark wizard responsible for it tried to kill him. Well, he lived. And strange enough said dark wizard disappeared. Then, Harry was tossed with some muggles from his mother's family and was abused for _years_. Afterwards, he entered Hogwarts and had to fight not only once, but two times against the same dark wizard. And all of this for the sake of saving people he didn't even fully connect to.

 

His bad luck was not only being singularized by a mad sociopath who would do everything to kill him. He was also condemned to risk his life in unusual quests wherever he went and whatever he did. Mostly everyone believed him to actually _search_ for these quests, to desire for these feats and to _want_ to save people, as if he had some hero complex. Hell, he didn't even have a hand in throwing Lord Voldemort in oblivion! He was a baby at that time. Ginny and Sirius were other stories… but that wasn't the point now.

 

The point was that at fourteen Harry was tired, immensely tired of this wrecked lifestyle. He would give everything to live a single year of schooling without being preoccupied by a Dark Lord breathing down his neck or having to save his hide in any way.

 

His fourth year at Hogwarts hadn't been easier than the ones before it. If truth be told, it was even worse. Currently being tied to an old gravestone and surrounded by Death Eaters was a good indicator of that fact.

 

But the teen didn't let it get to him. His mind was spinning with theories and hypothesis as he tried to figure what was about to happen to him _again_. Certainly Fate wasn't ready to let him die. She certainly had plenty of ideas to put him through more suffering, _again_. His most prized conjecture was that Voldemort had planned to invade the school and would probably use Harry to get into it. That undoubtedly would make him manage yet _again_ a glorious feat. Save everyone and defend the "good ideals". Not that Harry wanted such a thing to happen, or believed he could succeed at such a deed. But Fate definitely loved to put him in situations like that, and Harry's bad luck always made him triumph. He _hated_ it.

 

Voldemort had just inventoried the handful of Death Eaters that cowered under his wrath and was spouting some nonsense about a protection Lily gave her son in sacrificing herself and that this "old magic" was the secret behind Harry's survival and the Dark Lord demise.

 

"But it doesn't matter because now I can touch him" said Voldemort, his hand within millimetres of Harry's cheek.

 

He felt the tips of the slender pale fingers trailing his skin and next thing he knew, he was alone with the Death Eaters. He blinked owlishly, searching for the menacing figure that hanged upon him a mere second ago. But the Dark Lord Voldemort was nowhere to be seen and his wand lay forgotten on the ground and all agony from his scar has vanished.

 

"My Lord" cried out a Death Eater. He sounded panicked.

 

Confusion fell upon the premises as they all took in what happened. But Harry didn't pay them much attention because something strange stirred near his side.

 

'Potter' someone called him in an ethereal voice.

 

He turned - well, as much as he could, being tied to a gravestone and all - only to face a red angry stare he knew quite well.

 

'What have you done _again_?' growled the high-pitched voice of Voldemort.

 

"Huh?" was all that Harry managed getting past his lips. In front of him stood in all his glory the Dark Lord but none of his servants seemed to notice him. Maybe that was because of the ghostly transparency quality of his body or the dim glow that surrounded him…

 

Voldemort leaned forward and grasped his wand. Or tried to - his fingers paler than white didn't seemed to grasp it, they went right _through_ it.

 

"Oh my" blanched Harry. "What are you now? A ghost?"

 

Well, he absolutely didn't saw that coming. 

 

Soon it became obvious that only Harry could see Voldemort and the Death Eaters couldn't. When they were quite finished yelling loudly after the disappearance of their Lord and calmed down, they turned to their prisoner, who was having a little chit-chat with said Lord.

 

'Potter, don't be an idiot' was saying the literally glowing Voldemort. 'I cannot perform magic anymore. You're the only one who can see me or hear me, so you _have_ to hear me out.'

 

"But I don't have to help you nonetheless. Why would I? It's not like I'm debt with you or anything."

 

 'You know that if you don't help me a little here, I will make your life a living hell.'

 

"What, you would make it worse than it already is?" drawled sarcastically the black-haired teen. "I can't see how you could."

 

The Death Eaters gasped. One of them ran to him and pointed his wand straight at his face. "What are you babbling about, you little piece of shit?! Are you so barmy you talk to yourself now?"

 

Sometimes Harry had illuminations. He wasn't exceptionally clever or stupidly blind, but he knew how to put two and two together when his life was in danger - that bloody Slytherin trait - and now was one of those times. It didn't take a genius to realize that he would be killed by the Death Eaters in revenge for whatever he did to make the Dark Lord disappear - even if he believed it wasn't actually his fault. But then, how could they kill him if they knew that Harry was their only mean to get in touch - not literally - with their master? As much as he didn't want to help the red-eyed bastard, he didn't want to die either, thank-you-very-much.

 

"I wasn't talking to myself, I was talking to your Lord Voldemort" he stated in a calm, composed voice.


	2. Unwanted Cohabitation

Chaos erupted. Some accused him of lying; some like Lucius Malfoy stood silent, waiting for further developments. Harry requested silence and obtained it thanks to the utter perplexity of the dark wizards.

 

'They will want some proof of this' stated Voldemort with a maniacal glint in his ruby eyes. 'If you want to survive this, you will need my help. And then you _will_ owe me. Swear you'll help me with my Death Eaters and to get a corporeal form without telling anyone of my... predicament and I will get you out of this mess.'

 

"That's not enough. You also have to guarantee that you and your lot will leave me alone from now on, because what's the point if I help you gain a body back and you kill me afterwards?" He paused as he contemplated another idea. "Wait! You also get to leave alone anyone I deem necessary, and that includes my friends, Sirius Black, and some other people of my choosing."

 

Voldemort sighed. 'Deal. But remember : breathe one word of this to anybody else and I swear I will kill you.'

 

Harry turned towards the assembly. "Please listen, if only for a moment. I'm not joking. I don't even pretend it's funny, but it's true, I swear. Your Lord is in some sort of spirit shape right now and he's standing right here beside me. I don't know how it happened, or why I'm the only one seeing him for that matter but well, he and I just made a pact and I'm going to prove with his assistance that I'm not lying." He took in air and looked again at Voldemort. "Okay, so what do I do now?"

 

'Try casting a Dark Mark in the sky' suggested the spirit-like Lord.

 

"What?" whispered furiously Harry. "That's ridiculous. I don't even know how to cast one!"

 

The Death Eaters were beginning to squirm a little before such a sight to behold: the Boy-Who-Lived seemingly gone round the bend, making up ghost stories, talking to himself and asking questions to one in particular. Well, he didn't care.

 

'That's Morsmordre' replied Voldemort. 'Point your wand to the sky and say the word.'

 

"Funny" retorted mockingly the Boy-wonder. "Should I get your attention on the fact that you got Wormtail collect my wand?"

 

'Pointing your index finger should be sufficient.'

 

Bewildered, Harry do as he was told, struggling to lift enough his finger to direct it at the sky, as he was still tied down. Moments later, a green light emerged from his bound hand and shoot upwards, creating a floating and sickly green Dark Mark above the flabbergasted assembly.

 

"Oh, it really worked" said a dumbfounded Harry.

 

The Dark Lord snickered - well, _that_ was a sight to behold.

 

 

The Death Eaters seemed to find it an adequate proof enough and they unfastened him from the gravestone, which he was thankful for as he was growing sore. They all eagerly asked for more details - where was their Lord standing, how could they not hear him? From this moment on, and at the Lordship's insistence, Harry lent him his voice, reciting word for word what he was saying to his partisans. They didn't appear to like the situation one bit but paid attention to him nonetheless.

 

Voldemort admitted that his plans were put on hold for the time being and that he would get in touch with them if the need arose. Then, he dismissed them. They Apparated away, leaving them alone in the graveyard with the corpse of Cedric Diggory.

 

'Now, Potter, grab my hand, and take the Cup.'

 

"It's a portkey back to Hogwarts?" asked Harry. He wanted to make sure - better not landing yet again in some strange place.

 

'Yes, you moron, go get it' barked Voldemort.

 

"Do I really have to take your hand?" He sighed as the exasperated face the Dark Lord made. "Okay, okay. Just to make sure, you know, I always prepare for the nastiest things as they tend to happen on a regular basis to m…"

 

'Stop babbling foolishly, you are wasting time. There is no way you leave me behind. From now on until I have my body back, I will follow you everywhere, Potter.'

 

"Oh. But I want to take Cedric back."

 

'I ask you to reconsider. People will question. If you materialize with a dead, they will think that _you_ killed him."

 

"I don't care what people say. Plus, it would be equally strange if he were to vanish all of a sudden at the end of the task." Voldemort fell mute and Harry smirked again as a stupid sensation of winning overtook him. "Your silence means I'm right. So we're getting Cedric back."

 

Moments later, he landed on the grass with a corpse, a trophy and an invisible Dark Lord attached to his right arm. He looked up to see Dumbledore staring at him anxiously. Figures gathered around him and people started to whisper and cry about the death of Cedric. Harry let go of the Hufflepuff hand and murmured to Dumbledore about returning the body and how he thought it was important. He was so tired. He was fighting the urge to close his eyes with difficulty, thinking about the Dark Lord loitering about.

 

"Harry, what happened?" asked the Headmaster.

 

'Pip a word and I promise I will find a way to kill you no matter what!' hissed Voldemort.

 

Harry almost rolled eyes. He made the promise and he intended to be true to his words. But he didn't have any bloody clue of what to say to explain Cedric's death. He bought himself time faking tremendous horror and exhaustion - not that was difficult to fake. "It… it was horrible!" he mumbled weakly.

 

Suddenly Dumbledore was gone and someone took him up. He almost closed his eyes, rocked by the pace of the one who picked him up. Clac. Clac. Clac.

 

Wait, wait, wait. What was he doing, falling asleep now of all times? He wouldn't let Voldemort roam free around the school. He raised his head, searching for the spectral figure. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he spotted him right beside him.

 

'Don't be afraid, I'm not letting you go.'

 

"Well, I'm not letting you go either" stated Harry under his breath.

 

"What was that, Potter?" asked Moody Mad-Eye as he settled him down in a chair.

 

They were in his office and Mad-Eye locked it behind them.

 

"Oh, nothing, I was just wondering…"

 

"Was it the Dark Lord that killed Diggory?" asked the professor, his blue eye spiralling frantically. Harry wondered for one second if he could see the ghostly Voldemort with this magical eye.

 

"Not really but… wait!" shouted Harry. "How do you know that?"

 

Mad-Eye smirked twistedly; "It happens that I am one of his servant. But first things first, how did you came back alive? Hasn't the Dark Lord returned?"

 

"Oh, he returned alright" taunted Harry. "But bad luck - or Fate, for that matter, choose that wasn't enough and... well, one can say that now he is my personal poltergeist."

 

'You make it sounds so weird' whistled a displeased Voldemort, sitting on the chair next to him.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, he touched me and ended up being a ghost - don't ask why, I don't have the slightest idea. And now I am the only one who can see him, let alone hear him. So we came to this little deal between us two and I talked for him to the Death Eaters who were there, and then we came back to Hogwarts."

 

The face that Mad-Eye made was disturbing with his scars displacing his traits as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

 

"Be free to distrust me - hell, I don't even believe myself."

 

'Poor potty Potter' drawled sarcastically the ghost.

 

"Oh, do shut up, you insubstantial bastard." Mad-Eye frowned. "That was destined to him, by the way" Harry added moments later.

 

Against all odds, the Death Eater believed his story after he made a Dark Mark appear on a paper. They settled to business - Voldemort and 'Mad-Eye', who was in fact Barty Crouch, with Harry working as an interpret. The red-eyed wizard insisted that Crouch got to Snape as soon as possible and made sure he was faithful and hadn't divulged the summon in the Dark Mark to Dumbledore.

 

They made up a story about an Acromentula killing Cedric as they took the trophy together. That wasn't far from the truth. The advantage of this version was that Acromentula venom was untraceable, as the Dark Lord told Harry. Then, Dumbledore and some other people came knocking by and interrupted what seemed like a comforting scene - they didn't suspect a thing. Harry answered their questions and was led to the Infirmary with a Dark Lord in tow.

 

The remaining of the evening was spent surrounded by the Weasleys, Sirius and other friendly people who wanted to comfort him as he received his prize from an ill-humoured Minister of Magic. He was finally force-fed some sleep potion and sank in a deep slumber.

 

The following day he awoke to see Voldemort hovering near his bedside. He ignored him in favour of getting out of the infirmary. Then, he had to face Cedric's parents. He told them the same tale he told Dumbledore and the others, with little remorse. 'Mad-Eye' came to see him and discreetly confirmed the loyalty of Snape to the ghostly Dark Lord, who glowered with relief at that. And then he hanged up with his mates, distracted by the abnormal presence always near him. Everyone took his absent-mindedness for a consequence of what happened the day before, so he was allowed some unfocused stares and long silences without suspicions.

 

As he and his 'personal poltergeist' soon grasped, Voldemort couldn't get far from him. He could walk through a wall and go outside, for example, but within a few seconds he was pulled back to Harry. It was shocking. That plus the fact that Harry performed spells a lot easier than usual - and even wordlessly and wandlessly - was what made the Dark Lord suspect his magic had been sucked up inside Harry. And that his ghost form was somehow anchored to Harry.

 

It was good news as far as the teen was concerned. It implied that the Dark Lord couldn't roam free. But then it also meant he would haunt him forever.

 

He annoyed Harry on every chance he got. It seemed that he was extremely bored, not being able to connect to things and people: he tried reading but then depended on Harry to hold the book or turn the pages, which Harry absolutely refused to do. He tried speaking to Hogwarts ghosts but they wouldn't perceive his presence. So the only thing he could keep himself occupied with was spying on Harry and making snide comments.

 

For example, one night at dinner, he revealed that Dumbledore was once the lover of Gellert Grindelwald, making Harry spill his pumpkin juice all over the table. Or he snorted at everything that got past Ron's lips. Or he spoke to Harry when in class, giving him a jump.

 

Harry didn't think it was all for the sake of annoying him. It probably was because he was really bored to death, since he seemed to be somehow pleased with Harry. He praised him for staying true to his promise and delivering his exact words to the Death Eaters. He specified he would have never pictured the teen to be so sharp and that he hadn't counted on his absolute cooperation. Well, to Harry it wasn't being clever, it was selfishness.

 

Better cohabitate peacefully than being haunted by a malevolent Dark Lord who would make him pay his refusal to collaborate.

 

It was only five days until end of term; however it was enough for Hermione to start taking notice. He admitted he wasn't very subtle about the whole thing. Sometimes Voldemort would say something to him and he would respond in a whisper, but a whisper could still be noticed. Or he would stare with some expression out of place at the Dark Lord in a pointedly way and that would earn him anxious looks from his brainy friend.

 

He wouldn't reveal the truth to her for everything in the world. He had made a promise and he also didn't want to worry her. The problem was his and his alone to bear.

 

At last, school was over. He was relieved as he would no longer have to watch so closely his actions with the Dursleys because they wouldn't care. He passed the train ride playing chess with Ron and winning for the first time, thanks to the Dark Lord advices. In the end, they parted ways from Hermione and he met up with the Dursleys with a sense of dread. How much would have changed the next time he'll see his friends?


	3. Unfortunate complication

Voldemort stayed silent for the rest of the day as Harry went through his usual chores as soon as he got out of the car. At the same time Uncle Vernon sealed away his trunk. Obviously he hadn't forgotten what happened last summer when the Weasleys came in Privet Drive and he wanted to make him pay hard. 

When the night came he was locked in his room without dinner. Harry was used to this treatment so it didn't matter much to him anyway. He fed Hedwig with a distracted hand, then dismissed the ghost. He just got to bed and was reading a book when Voldemort came back creeping around him. They had taken this habit for the week they spent together: the Dark Lord allowed him privacy when getting to bed or dressing in the morning and came back after, pulled towards Harry by the magic. 

'What are these muggles to you?' he questioned.

"They are my only living relatives, actually" informed him Harry. He closed his book. "It's my aunt, the sister of my mother, and her husband."

'They're horrid.'

"I gathered as much" sighed the teen. 

'I don't want to stay in this house for a single more day.'

"Oh, but we have to wait the end of July till the Weasleys take me to their house. That's what happens every year." 

Voldemort sat in a chair and crossed his legs in a manly fashion. 'I didn't know the Golden Boy was living with Muggles and playing house-elf. One would think Dumbledore would have you risen in a proper family of the Light like the Weasleys. It's impossible that he doesn't know what you're living here… I'm almost positive it was his choice to put you through this.'

"He certainly has other important things to think about than making sure of my well-being." 

He realized his tone of voice was bitter. After all, Voldemort told the truth, even if he had problems to accept it: he had suffered abuse all his childhood, because, yes, now he knew that's what it was called, and was kept away from his world. His life sucked. And Dumbledore was probably the main reason for this. 

But why would this seemingly benevolent old man make him suffer, denying him all chances of at happiness and a normal childhood? 

'He did the same thing with me' stated Voldemort after a silence. 'When I was a student in Hogwarts he left me at summer in a Muggle orphanage even if he knew I despised it.' Harry remembered the story from his second year and his encounters with Tom Marvolo Riddle. 'And I think he does this kind of things to a lot of people, making them believe he genuinely care for them but treating them like chess pieces. Maybe that's because it has an importance in the great scheme of things, an importance at the Greater Good, for him anyways it must be this. But think about it, Harry Potter: the leader of the Light and defeater of Dark Lords is making people suffer… Isn't it ironic?'

Harry thought in silence for some minutes, taking in all that Voldemort said. And he came to agree with it. Finally he was lulled to sleep by the now familiar dim glow of the ghost, thinking that he had to do something at last …

 

-OoO-

 

He woke the following morning at dawn. It wasn't even six o'clock yet and Privet Drive was still asleep but he got dressed anyway. When he came back from the bathroom, he turned to the Dark Lord.

"I'm getting out of this place" he whispered, and then he collected his belongings around the room, real fast considering he didn't own much apart from his school things, and then went to the cupboard to retrieve his trunk, Hedwig silently rolling her head in her cage.

'Good decision' acquiesced Voldemort, following him down the stairs. 

But Harry stopped in front of his cupboard, putting the cage on the floor. The door was locked and he couldn't use magic. What could he do? There was no way he could just leave without his wand or his Invisibility Cloak. 

'Stupid Potter' spat Voldemort, visibly impatient to get out. 'Use Parselmagic.'

"What?"

'Parselmagic' he repeated slowly, as if talking to a little child. 'The magic of the serpents' mages, like Slytherin.'

"I don't know what you're talking about."

'Are you a Parselmouth or not? Don't play dumb, Wormtail told me you are one. Simply say the word in Parseltongue.'

Something clicked in Harry's mind and memories of the Chamber of Secrets' entrance came back to him. "You mean… that's magic?!" he asked, bewildered.

'Yes, now, do it!'

He tilted his head to the side and pictured a snake in his mind. "Open" he heard himself hiss. "It worked!" 

'Are you going to say that each time you perform magic?' snarled the Dark Lord.

Minutes later, he was outside the house with his trunk, Hedwig and her cage and his wand. He called reluctantly the Knight Bus - his only means of transportation besides the broom, a bit inconvenient to go to central London. 

So, here he was, being tossed right and left, left and right, in the highest level of the bus, hanging desperately to the worn-out armchairs. He was getting greener and greener but Lord Voldemort Extraordinaire didn't seem to care; the red-eyed bastard was currently leaning on his forearms on the back of the chair, humming under his breath, unaffected by the diabolic movements of the furniture.

'So, what are you planning to do now? You're basically homeless.' 

He tried to answer without vomiting. "Homeless but not penniless." He succeeded. Little victories are victories all the same.

A crumpled faced old lady stared at him. He glared back, trying to look intimidating – and failing. He couldn't succeed at everything anyway, not being this sea-sick. 

'The woman is staring.'

"I know!"

'She thinks you're talking to yourself. Stop drawing attention or people will notice who you are.'

"I'm just... sick, I... don't care..."

'Stop talking.'

Blissfully, the torture ended soon after that, leaving Harry, his things and his poltergeist in a deserted street of Muggle London. 

-OoO-

 

Harry let out a sigh. 

'And what now? What are you going to do with an owl in a cage and a trunk in the middle of London?' 

The teen sighed again and sat on his trunk in the middle of the walkway. "... Don't know."

Voldemort fumed. 'Don't tell me you haven't thought this through! Stupid Gryffondor!'

"You were the one to suggest going away!" protested Harry.

'Not 'going away' like an angsty-teen on the run, you foolish boy! Do you ever think before you act?!'

"... No."

The ghost eyed him with contempt. 'Potter, get moving. People are noticing.' And he turned and walked away.

Harry, still weak from the bus ride, followed him down the road to a gloomy alleyway. "Where are you going? Planning to kill me in a dark corner?"

'You know I can't, even if I wanted to. Be silent.'

Moments later, they reached a dark corner indeed. Voldemort spun on his heels. Harry startled a little.

'Now boy, put down that cage. Open it. Your owl will follow you anyway. We're going to leave the cage behind to be more inconspicuous. Don't fret, Potter. Just do it.'

He did as he was told, freeing Hedwig. "Just be careful, girl, okay?" Voldemort rolled his eyes. The bird took off and disappeared above the rooftops. 

'Now, do you agree that your magic is not the same since the... incident?'

"Didn't we already broach that subject?"

'Cheeky, aren't you? Just let me finish. The main theory is that my magic went into you, not that I like it, but I think it's for the best in our... predicament. Also, you have more input on it and a finer control. Like my experience was transferred to you, hence you know how to cast spells you didn't know before. Not like a real knowledge, more like you would have already done it and don't remember. And the casting of the Dark Mark proved that you have, to some extent, my magical signature. If you didn't, you wouldn't succeed; your own signature is too Lightish. Now you are almost a dark wizard.'

Harry shrugged. "It's not that I don't care, but I don't see how that would help me right now."

'Just think, for once. You have a different magical signature now.' Voldemort let out an exasperated sigh. 'So the Trace do not work anymore on you. You are free to perform magic.'

"Ohhhh..."

It took almost thirty minutes for Harry to make a correct disguise under Voldemort's indications. Once done, he shrunk his trunk and got back to the street, glamour spells making him a blond man of twenty-something. It was eight and the city was buzzing with activity.

"And what now?" asked Harry this time. 

'Now we're searching for a living accommodation. Muggle would be less obvious. Depends on what you want.'

"I'm not on the run; I have no reasons to hide. And I've nothing to fear about the Death Eaters. I think it would be best to go to the Leaky Cauldron. There I can get a room for today and think about the rest of the holidays." He started to make his way towards magical London, the ghost following in toe. 

'Your choice. But you can't keep on casting glamours on yourself, it's not reliable enough. And then everyone will know Harry Potter is around Diagon Alley and will bother you- and me.'

"I'm not going to stay there all summer, I'll arrange for the Weasleys to fetch me."

'And have them with you when trying to get my body back? No way.'

Harry glanced under his blond fringe. "Fine. What do you have in mind?"

'Simple, Potter. We need some privacy, a quiet place where I can plan. You need to hide, because your disappearance will surely cause a commotion. When people will find out you're missing, there's going to be an uproar. Dumbledore will do anything to search for you.'

"I don't see how it's smarter. Given, the Weasleys are going to be a problem if I stay there, and once in their home I won't be allowed to leave until school. Safety measures" he added. "But at least my leaving the Dursley's won't make a fuss."

'I need my body' emphasised the Dark Lord. 'There's dark magic involved, you can't do it anywhere you want. Not in a light wizards' household."

"I understand that. How a muggle place can be a better choice in your eyes, that I don't. The neighbours are bound to notice."

'We could go to my place' suggested Voldemort.

Harry chuckled. "Is that a proposition?"

'Silly Potter. It's obviously the best solution. There, I have all my books and research on Hor-... on things. No one will ever find you.'

"I don't like it. It sounds like you're going to kill me there."

'Just stop, for once. I'm fed up with your insinuations. You know it's the only way we'll work something, and then I'll let you get on with your life. We could pretend I kidnapped you when you ran away from your relatives. You escaped with your cursed luck or something, and as a boon Dumbledore will consider finding you a new home for the rest of your scholarship.'

The teen had to give him credit. "That might actually work, you know. But there's something you didn't account for."

'And what can it be?' asked the ghost, sauntering his way around people on the street. 

"I'd have to trust you not to arm me. And trust is a problem."

Leaving him at that, Harry went on walking, not bothering to grant the ghost another glance. 

-OoO-

They bickered for several days. In the meantime, Harry stayed in a room above the Leaky Cauldron, collected some money from his vaults. He didn't send a letter to Ron, even when Hedwig came back to him the first night. Under Voldemort threats, and a powerful glamour, he did went to Knockturn Alley to buy some books on soul rituals. Then, they spent all day long locked in the hotel room, going through the books. Voldemort did the going through while Harry turned the pages and took notes on parchment rolls. And they bickered while doing so, Voldemort arguing they had go somewhere safe to run some tests. 

The ninth day, Harry couldn't take it anymore. He let his feather fall on the table and started to pace around the room.

'Potter. We are nowhere near done. Come back here, I want you to turn the page.'

"Then stop complaining! I'm sick of it!"

The ghost snarled. 'Do you think I'm pleased to be in your infuriating presence? To be helpless like some pesky muggle child, not even able to take a pencil in my hand? I'm the one who offered solutions to make this faster, and you turned it down! You have no right to complain about it!'

"Pesky, you said it. You're one annoying, evil bastard."

'And it's your fault we're still bound together! If I was at my place, I'd have everything worked out by now, I'm sure of it!'

"And I would be dead. So, thank you very much, but we'll make it do. Just stop lashing at me every minute!"

They glared. In the end, Harry went back to his work, still fuming. They spent some time like that, a great black cloud of fury above their heads, until Voldemort broke the silence.

'Trust.'

"What was that?"

'It's a matter of trust to you, that's why you don't want to give in.'

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." The teen turned the page absently. "As if I could trust you."

'Don't be ridiculous, I'm not asking you to trust me. I don't trust you either.'

"Great."

'It's not trust we need. It's understanding. I know what you want. You know what I want. We're both capable of giving it to each other.'

"True. We made a deal on it. Your body against my life and my friend's. But when you'll have what you want, there's no telling if you'll keep your end of the deal. You're not famous for your moral compass."

Voldemort hummed. 'Maybe my morals' -he snickered a bit at that– 'are not the same as yours, silly Gryffondor. But I know that I'll keep my end of the bargain. Why would I bother to kill you after knowing you better? Why would I feel threatened by some moron who doesn't know how to shrink a trunk on his own? After we're done, you can go to Dumbledore if you want, that won't change anything if you do. Actually, I don't think you'll ever tell a soul, you'll be too ashamed you helped me gain back my power. Twice, at that. Poor Potter. Turn the page.'

Harry knew he should be insulted at Voldemort dismissal of him. But the Dark Lord had a point there. He obeyed while his mind wandered around the implications of giving him to Voldemort's suggestions. 

"There'll be Death Eaters?" he wondered aloud after a while.

'No, unless we need them. Wormtail will be here, but this cowardly fool won't bother you, we'll make sure of that.'

"Will I be able to write to my friends? Tell them I'm out the country or something?"

'Whatever, Potter. What are you going to tell anyone about your summer is your problem, really. Unless you tell them where you truly are, but then they'll interrupt before we finish. Without my body, I would be stuck with you.'

Harry huffed. "Of course I'm not telling the truth! They'd never believe me. They don't even know you're back."

Voldemort kept on perusing the book, saying nothing. When Harry noticed the bastard was smirking, he slammed the book.

"Allright! You've won. Let's get going."

 

-OoO-

 

Since he didn't have the Trace anymore, Voldemort tried to teach him how to Apparate. Harry failed miserably. The ghost mocked him for some time before grudgingly making him do a Portkey. It was much easier for Harry, as it was actual casting and didn't involve too much manipulation of magic. 

'So now, picture the graveyard we were two weeks ago and say the word.'

Harry laughed. "Your place is... a cemetery?!"

He still laughed when he crashed between two tombstones. Oh, how Harry loved magical means of transportation! That was ironic, by the way.

'It's the house over there' indicated Voldemort, pointing towards the manor towering the cemetery. 

Harry trekked towards the gloomy building, still chuckling. "I think you're overdoing it. A cemetery and an old haunted house, it's a bit cliché.'

'I don't care about what you think. It's perfectly functional.'

Still, when entering the great hall, Harry could stop a shudder. The place was dusty; spider's web were covering the furniture and the nearest window had a broken panel. A rat with a missing leg looked at him curiously from the top of a drawer. Harry snickered.

"So, Peter, house cleaning is not your forte?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes. He did that a lot. 'Tell him to transform back or else I'll feed him to Nagini.'

"Transform back or else I'll feed you to Nagini" threatened Harry with dramatics.

Wormtail did as he was told. As soon as the change was complete, he snivelled and crawled to Harry's feet. 

"Please, please, Harry..."

'Send him away. He disgusts me.'

"Go away, you disgust me" repeated Harry. He ignored the retreating man and turned towards Voldemort. "He didn't even ask if you where still with me."

'He lost his backbone a long ago but he has still the capacity to think, contrary to you Potter. For the rest of the world, the manor is in ruins and they can't approach it, let alone enter. Warded to magical signature' he explained, when Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Only those who have the Dark Mark can enter – and you, since you have my magical signature, sort of. Now, get to this door. It will lead you to the basement, that's where my base is. Password to the door is Parselmagic.'

"Of course."

Harry marvelled at the basement. It didn't only run under the house but under the whole hill, it seemed. The first floor was for Voldemort personal use only. There was a library almost as large as Hogwarts', a potion lab and all other necessities. Second floor was where the Death Eaters crashed in the last war. It had a lot of little bedrooms sporting the bare minimum, and meeting rooms and such. Harry couldn't have imagined there could be so much Death Eaters. Third and last floor was actually a great space left blank with a rocky soil. Voldemort explained it was where his followers could Apparate. The place was empty but not so dusty, thanks to the several house elves that stayed locked in the basement at all time. Hermione would have been so angry.

'Tour is now over, Potter, get back to the library.'

"I don't care, I can go on exploring, you'll have to follow me anyway."

'Potter.' The Dark Lord tone was ice cold. 'Enough.'

Harry sighed as he obeyed the ghost. 

-OoO-

For the rest of the day, he slaved under Voldemort's orders. He fetched books and scrolls of parchment, turned the pages and wrote down whatever the other wanted. He didn't understand much but at this point they'd never stumbled across anything helpful. His current bore was a huge tome in Albanian, treating about Horcruxes. Voldemort was 'sitting' in his chair, a frown on his face. 

"What's a Horcrux anyway?" asked Harry. "The notes I'm taking are very disturbing. A soul piece? Really?"

'It's a soul piece inside an object.'

"What use do you have of that? You want to transfer inside a body like this?" Harry chuckled. "Hey, you would be a zombie then. Zombie Voldie!"

'Do shut up Potter, I'm trying to work here.'

Harry lasted almost five minutes before bothering the ghost again. "Anchoring, it says. That means you can't die?" Voldemort didn't respond, so the teen went on. "You die physically, but your soul stays on earth. Like what happened when you tried to kill me."

'Exactly. Now, hush.'

"So, what is your Horcrux?"

Voldemort turned his red glare on him. 'Stay silent. You're making it more difficult.'

"Can you imagine how boring it is, sitting here for hours going through books and not understanding a word of it? Can we stop now?" pleaded Harry, fed up with the whole thing for the day.

'It wouldn't be so boring if you actually tried to follow.'

"It's in Albanian!" protested Harry. 

'Well, try and learn Albanian.'

Harry snorted. A whole minute passed with Voldemort focused on a single paragraph until the moment his eyebrows went up. He screamed in frustration.

"Why are you reacting this way? What happened?!" 

When his eyes met Voldemort's, he shuddered. The ghost was glowing with fury.

'Oh, Potter. You. That's what happened. I should have guessed sooner.' He extended a hand and touched Harry's forehead, making the young wizard cringe with worry. 'You are a Horcrux.'

"Are you serious?"

'Very much so.' The fury had ablated a little, noticed the teen. Voldemort was still touching Harry's forehead, translucent fingers tracing the lightning scar. 'It was an accident, of course. I'd never make a horcruxe out of a wizard, it's too erratic. But still, still, you are one of my Horcruxes. A piece of my soul lodged itself into you.'

"That's disgusting. You're a parasite."

'No, Potter. You're the one who did me wrong this time.'

Harry blinked in astonishment. "What do you mean? You're the one who keeps trying to kill me!"

'And, you, boy, siphoned all my magic. Well, not you. My Horcrux. Or the part of you that is my Horcrux. Whatever.' Voldemort made a vague gesture of the hand.

"It's not my fault! It's not like I could have known!"

'But you did it anyway. Or my soul piece inside you did it.'

"And how do we get this soul piece off me?"

'We don't. Truly, it would be a very bad idea. You have it since you're an infant. That would put too much pressure on your soul and your magic. You could die from it, I presume.'

"Okay. And so, how do you get your body back?"

'I can't. Not without my magic. My soul cannot go back to a body, let alone create one, without magic.'

"Okay. How can you get your magic back?"

'If I kill you the muggle way, there's a chance. But I'm not willing to take it, and you neither I presume.'

"It's my life, thank you very much. Plus, we made a deal."

'For now, we have no solution to our problem.'

"Bugger."


	4. Unusual Conundrum

For days on end, Voldemort fumed silently, ignoring Harry and everything else. Each time Harry tried to divert his attention, he was a rewarded with a red, death glare and some insults.

 

"Well, you can't ignore me forever, I hope you realise that. I am the only one you can communicate with. Plus you're anchored to me."

 

Voldemort didn't answer, but the fire in his eyes was telling.

 

"I thought you were a genius. What good is it to be so smart when you can't figure out something to recover you magic?"

 

No nothing. He sighed.

 

"Fine. Brood all you like. But don't you dare to treat me like a child after this episode."

 

Three days after their discovery, Barty arrived in Little Hangleton. Upon seeing him, Voldemort didn't even react, staying in his catatonic state.

 

Harry was sitting in an armchair, warming himself in front of a fireplace in the upper floors of the house. He was considering what his options were, if he was to live forever with Lord Voldemort glued to him and Death Eater on his heels. No need to say his future didn't bode well...

 

"Potter, have you found a solution?"

 

Harry considered briefly saying the truth, but he didn't want to face the consequences it could have on a barmy devoted Death Eater with no one to interrupt in an old and gloomy house. "Not for now, we're still working on it."

 

Voldemort's spectral glow seemed to intensify, and not in a nice way.

 

"You don't seem to do much working" remarked Barty.

 

Harry said nothing. Instead, he set to revive the dying fire.

 

He was still crouched with his back to Barty and the door when Nagini entered the room. Barty blanched. Unbestknow to Harry (and Nagini, for that matter) the timing was perfect because the Death Eater had drawn his wand and was about to do something they would all have regretted dearly later.

 

Instead, he put discreetly his wand back in his pocket and cowed slightly on the giant snake's passage.

 

" _Where is my master?"_ hissed Nagini.

 

Harry startled, fell on his backside with a gasp. Still, Voldemort didn't react.

 

_"I... He is here."_

 

" _Good."_ And she coiled herself on Harry's legs.

 

"Erm..."

 

"I leave you to your work" said Barty, retreating with a funny face.

 

Harry's left hand hung in the air for several seconds before he tentatively let it rest on top of Nagini's head. She hissed with pleasure.

 

Harry sighed once more and let his head fall back on the side of the armchair. He never had a standard lifestyle, but for the last days, it seemed to turn madder by the minute.

 

-OoO-

 

 

Harry was sleeping peacefully in a stark bed, the weight of Nagini's coils blessfully warming his feet as usual since the last two days when a spectral dark lord shook him by the shoulders.

 

Believe me that was not a particularly pleasant way to wake.

 

'I have an idea.'

 

 

Harry startled, then stared at Voldemort who was still pointedly ignoring him. Nagini hissed furiously, then coiled back again. Some more time passed before the Dark Lord Magnificent deigned to give more details.

 

'We could try a ritual. I would invent one, of course, but that isn't a problem. The finality is to transfer myself into something else, another body... swap minds with somebody while securing their soul inside.'

 

"That's gross. No way I'm helping you steal someone. And why would you need their soul? That's... Eeeerk."

 

'Stop overreacting. You promised to help me. You always knew it would get to something of this nature. And the soul, Potter, is the only way I can anchor my mind to a body.'

 

"No. Way. Now, let me sleep."

 

Harry let his head fall back on the pillow, tried to adjust his position without disturbing the giant snake on his legs. He was on the verge of sleep when a voice interrupted the silence again.

 

'It involves going to Albania.'

 

"Okaaaay. Why Albania?" Harry, this time, stayed on his back, eyelids half-closed, dreaming of going back to sleep.

 

'Because I need a vampire, and Albania has a lot of these.'

 

"A vampire?"

 

'Yes, Potter. A bloodsucker. They are dead, but functionnal.'

 

"You are going to turn into a vampire-zombie."

 

'Do not mock me.'

 

Some time passed. But Harry wasn't going back to sleep. An idea swirled around his mind, begging for his attention…

 

"And if I simply send your magic back?"

 

'You understand nothing. Magic is linked to the soul, and I have no soul anymore.'

 

"I always knew you were soulless. But if it's literally true, how can you still be here? No body, no soul... By all means, you should be dead."

 

'Very funny, Potter. I am still here because I made Horcruxes. If I had a soul, even a small piece of it, I would be a ghost. I have less than a fragment of soul, I am a spirit of sorts. I am only the trace of the existence of my mind. You are the only one able to see me because of our link, stronger than ever before.'

 

"... If you say so."

 

'You don't seem to grasp the complexity of the situation?'

 

"I grasped that it's too complicated for me. You are giving me headaches. And I'm tired. Good night."

 

Some time passed again. Something still nagged at his mind. Something the other had said…

 

Harry sat up in the bed, upsetting Nagini once more.

 

"When you spoke of a link, what did you mean?"

 

'Last summer, you visited this house, correct? In a dream, if I'm right? I tried to do the same to you but I hadn't enough strenght. I could only see and feel your emotions - and that was horrible.'

 

Harry let go, to tired to even bother with the implications in what Voldemort just said.

 

-OoO-

 

 

 

In the morning, harry was eating porridge in the derelict kitchen when Barty came to him. The Death Eater searched the room (for Nagini, summered Harry), then bowed facing an empty space near Harry (which was nowhere near Voldemort, but Barty didn't know that).

 

"My Lord," and then he got up and turned towards the fifteen years old. "Potter, still not working? Have you made any progress?"

 

He tried to look dignified. As he was eating his porridge with a fork (because the old Riddle house was derelict, there was a lot of missing things and spoons where one of them), and said porridge was dripping off the fork into the bowl and splashing into his pyjamas, it is useless to say he failed considerably. "Actually, yes. Tell me first, where is Pettigrew? I haven't seen him since my arrival here."

 

"Hiding. I think he fears you."

 

Voldemort snickered. "Well, Potter, at least you succeeded in gaining his respect. I fear Barty will need a little more... persuasion."

 

Harry ignored him. Voldemort played this game for days, now he was back to his normal, snide-self. And Harry was starting to feel regret for the days of Dark Lord brooding.

 

"So, what do we do?" asked Barty, impatient to hear how he could help his Great Lord.

 

"I'm going to Albania."

 

"... but why?"

 

'Tell him to come with us, you'll need his help to capture the vampire.'

 

"And if I don't want him?"

 

"Sorry, what did you say?" asked Barty.

 

'You have no choice" explained Voldemort. 'Do you really think you can face a entire coven on your own, if the worst come to pass? And with Barty at your side, you will be able to summon Death Eaters whenever you want.'

 

"... a sound advice" reckoned Harry. "I hate it when you're right."

 

'I hate you too, Potter.'

 

"So, Barty? Do you mind if I call you Barty?" The Death Eater expression twisted, but Harry didn't let him talk back. "We're leaving today for Albania. You're coming, and have no say whatsoever on the matter."

 

'Good, Potter, you're making progress. Now get dressed and get to London as fast as possible.'

 

"Why London?"

 

'Because you can't take international Portkeys, of Floo, or Apparition. That would be like sending a signal to the Ministry. We are going there in the Muggle way.'

 

"You're kidding!" Harry rubbed his face. "Okay. Barty, disguise yourself as a Muggle. We're going by plane."

 

 

-OoO-

 

 

Of all the things Harry had done in his life so far, navigating the subway with Lord Voldemort and a dangerous Death Eater who escaped from Azkaban ranked in the most ridiculous top five.

 

"You're holding your ticket upside-down. That's why it doesn't work."

 

Barty had a hand on his pocket, ready to Avada-Kedavra the torniquet. Voldemort's patience was wearing thin. And all the muggles around them had evolved into angry beasts.

 

"Move, you're blocking the way!" called a londoner.

 

"This is unacceptable! You've been here for ten minutes!" said a woman with a frown on her face.

 

"No, Barty, the other way!" called Harry from the other side of the barrier.

 

"Potter, shut up! It's not a stupid Muggle artefact that's going to stop me!"

 

"You loons! Let the honest people go back home! I have been working all day!"

 

"Me too!" add another man.

 

Barty brandished his wand. "I swear I'll Crucio to oblivion the next one who open his damned mouth!"

 

"And what you're gonna do with a wooden stick? Stick it up someone's nose?"

 

"Arse, most likely. See how he frothes at the mouth?"

 

"He's a madman!"

 

Harry turned to Voldemort. "Okay, what do I do?"

 

'Let him kill them.'

 

Harry inhaled slowly.

 

'That was a joke, Potter. We have no time for that. Do something.'

 

Harry was about to tell Voldemort what he thought about his advices when a girl of less than seven escaped from her mother and approched Barty with a smile.

 

"Do you need help, scarecrow?"

 

Barty's wand hand went down, a gobesmacked look on his face. Everyone around was silent.

 

"There's no shame to ask for help, mummy says. Here, let me do it for you."

 

She grasped the ticket, and put it in the machine the right way. "Here you go!" And she pushed him towards the passage with her little hands. Barty let her, a bewildered look on his face.

 

"Bye, scarecrow!" she waved.

 

Barty waved back hesitatingly. Harry took him by the arm and dragged himl down the hall. The last thing he heard from the girl was "Of course he was a scarecrow, he only wanted to scare away people! He doesn't know how to behave because he doesn't have a mummy..."

 

"Swear you'll never tell a soul, Potter." demanded Barty, waving his wand.

 

"... I didn't saw a thing."

 

-OoO-

 

After the subway episode, they encountered two or three other situations, but they are not to be told here because Barty's reputation would suffer greatly from it. Needless to say, Voldemort wasn't very happy to lost so much time with futilities, and Harry was, most of the times, trying not to laugh or cry.

 

Barty was clever, even if a little mad in the head, but he had zero experience with Muggles, and it showed.

 

Nevertheless, they finally reached their destination a day later.

 


End file.
